


In the Hands of the Living

by Meilan_Firaga



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Gen, Ghost!Harlan interfering with the living, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27256174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meilan_Firaga/pseuds/Meilan_Firaga
Summary: Things are different now that he's dead. Where before Harlan had never had a chance to really become that old man who meddled in the lives of his loved ones, now there's both no one to stop him and no way for them to know he's even involved.
Relationships: Marta Cabrera & Ransom Drysdale
Comments: 14
Kudos: 54
Collections: Trick or Treat Exchange 2020





	In the Hands of the Living

**Author's Note:**

  * For [falsettodrop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsettodrop/gifts).



The wonderful thing about being dead, he discovered, was that there was no one to interfere with his dramatic machinations. He was free to be a busybody about anything he pleased, and that, in particular, meant he could hang about to push things in the direction he wanted. It wasn’t what he expected when he held that knife to his throat, but it was turning out to be particularly useful in his pre-death determination to affect a little change in his family.

True, that meant he could have interfered in the investigation of his untimely demise in order to make things a little smoother for his beloved nurse, but where would the fun have been in that?

Marta and her family took quite well to life in his rural mystery mansion. Her mother delighted in being able to wander the grounds, and her sister was thrilled with the privacy the spacious house allowed. They kept the dogs. Having two new humans to pet and play gave the pups a whole new lease on life. They placed candles beneath his portrait over the mantle, lighting them each day with whispered words of thanks and affection. Marta smiled up at his face whenever she passed it by, never failing to make his memory a part of her daily life. They thrived. 

Still, Harlan knew that she wouldn’t make the most of the inheritance and its influential powers on his surviving family without a little push. She had a good heart, but she needed a little boost to become the sort of mastermind he needed—at least when it came to getting his favorite grandchild on track. Yes, Ransom was an asshole, but he was an asshole in the same way that Harlan had been when he was younger. He hoped that he might be able to gently nudge the woman who helped him make so many changes at the end of his life to do the same for Ransom before he grew quite so old and bitter.

Every day, Marta would close herself in Harlan’s former office to go over the multitude of papers that the estate left behind. She was trained to provide medical treatment and save lives, so taking over as the manager of a publishing company was a leap from her particular field of study. She was a stubborn, headstrong woman, though, and she plodded through it with the zeal of someone who was determined to do right by the legacy she’d been handed. It was commendable and more than a little bit sweet. Her heart was too kind, and she’d be too focused on making the most of her newfound role as caretaker to Harlan’s endowment.

So, every day Harlan waited until she was super focused on her work and knocked over the go board that she’d moved from the attic to the office.

And every day Marta sighed and cleaned it up, mumbling to herself about him being a brat. She didn’t know, of course, that it was actually his hand that sent the board sprawling across the carpet. Even if he could fully manifest into a visible apparition, he couldn’t see any reason to do it. Especially not when he could see the wheels begin to turn behind her eyes whenever she knelt on the floor. 

It only took a month for her to catch on to his little hints and form a plan. 

Harlan tagged along with her to the prison, hidden from view in the back seat of her car next to an oversized purse with a travel board tucked inside. He hovered against a wall while she waited patiently in the visiting room, the bag taking up the seat of a chair at her side. It wasn’t long before they led Ransom into the room, handsome as ever in spite of his orange jumpsuit and lace-less shoes.

“Well, well,” Ransom said, his tone flat. “This is a surprise.”

“Hello, Ransom.” Polite as always, Marta gave him a faint smile. There was no sarcasm in her next words. “I hope you’re doing well.”

“I’ve barely started a decade long prison sentence,” he sniped back. “Obviously I’m not doing particularly well.”

Marta raised an eyebrow of her own. “You should be grateful. Between your intentions toward Harlan, the way Fran died, and the way you lunged after me with that prop knife they probably should have given you life.”

“Which brings us back to the big question,” he insisted. “Why are you here?”

In lieu of answering, Marta reached for her bag and pulled out the travel go board. She rested it in her lap while she fished out the plastic containers of stones as well, setting them on the table one at a time. While he watched she unfolded the board and smoothed her hand across the surface.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Ransom snorted.

“This is the deal,” Marta began, staring him down across the table. “I will visit you for one hour each week. While I am here, we will play go. For every game you win, I will place one-thousand dollars in a high-yield savings account for you to access upon the completion of your sentence.” She laid out the board on the table between them.

Ransom leaned forward, bracing one elbow against the table in order to rest his chin in his hand. He stared her down through narrowed eyes for several long moments as though he were trying to pick her apart with looks alone. Marta stared right back, the same steel strapped to her spine that had gotten her through the whole terrible ordeal just after Harlan’s death. She spoke first.

“Afraid you’ll lose?” she asked, eyes still locked to Ransom’s own.

“Waiting to see if you’re going to yak all over me again.”

That caused the tiniest flicker, a softening in her eyes. “I’m not lying to you, Ransom. A thousand dollars for every game you win. I promise.”

“Why?” he asked, rubbing a hand over his mouth. 

“Like I said after the will reading: Harlan wanted you to build something for yourself.” She shrugged, shaking her head a little. “At least this way you’d be earning it a bit.”

He smirked at her, giving the tiniest huff of a laugh. “We’ll see about that when I beat you every time.”

“Harlan couldn’t, and I beat him more than you did.” She smirked right back at him.

“I’ll play white.” He held out a hand for the container of stones. “Give you a little head start.”

Marta handed over the stones with a roll of her eyes. “I won’t make too big of a fuss when you want to switch next game.”

Over by the wall, Harlan watched them and smiled. Her plan was even better than he’d hoped. He had a feeling he wouldn’t have to throw out ghostly hints for much longer.


End file.
